Distant Connections
by ibshafer
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him? *** COMPLETE ***
1. Chapter 1

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 1/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Could Max Evans and Clark Kent be connected somehow? It was just too good an idea to pass up…

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Distant Connections – Pt 1

_ibshafer_

5:00 am

Another story, another Red-Eye flight to the middle of no where.

"Are we there yet, Clark?" Lois could feel the jet's engines shifting and slowing down for their descent, but she wasn't quite ready to remove her sleep shades yet. Just like she wasn't ready to deal with their present assignment. Actually, it was Clark's assignment, but since he'd roped her into going along with him, she felt compelled to be involved. Never let it be said that Lois Lane (Lois Lane Kent) could pass up any journalistic opportunity. Even if it was about alleged aliens in Roswell, New Mexico. Under the shades, Lois rolled her eyes.

"Hmmm, what was that, Lois?" Clark said in his half-listening, automatic-wife-responding voice.

With a slightly dramatic sigh, Lois gave up and greeted the day.

"Nothing, dear," she said. Leaning over, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then pulled back sharply. "You're gonna shave before we hit town, aren't you?"

Clark gave her a look over the top of his glasses that made her smirk. It was his "yes, dear," look and she never got tired of it. They'd been married for four years now and she still reveled in the little things, even those signs of his light-hearted annoyance. Yesiree, just the sight of him still gave her the chills. Her man. Her man of steel. shiver

"Cold?" he asked, concern in his voice. Putting down the stack of papers and photos he was leafing through, he pulled the thin cotton airline blanket up around her arms.

"I'm fine," she said, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. "You know I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, Clark, but tell me again why we're covering a story that's been dead for over five decades?" She rolled her eyes a second time. "Aliens? _Please_. . ."

She could see him stifling a smirk, then his handsome face became serious. When he spoke, his voice was very low. "Why is it so hard to believe, Lois? You believe in me, don't you?"

Suddenly realizing what she'd said, she corrected herself. "Of course, I believe in you. But you're right here in front of me. And there were circumstances that brought you . . . to earth," she said, finishing in a whisper.

"And maybe there were circumstances in Roswell, too." Clark kissed her on the forehead, a move so tender it never failed to break through whatever funk she'd worked herself into. And this one was a little funk. "Try to keep an open mind, okay?"

"Oh-kaaaay," she purred, curling against his side. "Just tell me we'll be out of here in a day, and I'll be a good little journalist's wife. . ." Something was suddenly wrong, though, because she felt Clark stiffen in his seat. She sat up straight. "What? What is it?'

Clark's sigh was her answer. Not one day in Roswell. More than one day in Roswell. _Oh, lovely. . . _

"How long will we be here?" No answer. "Clark?"

It was clear Clark knew his wife well enough to know he should be feeling some fear right now; she could read it on his face. Chewing his lip, Clark finally responded. "We're booked at the Tumbleweed for a week."

_"A week?!" _

"There are some things I want to . . . you know, investigate, Lois. I think I might really be able to find something out here. . ." He looked up then, his face stricken-an open book-and she was suddenly struck by just what being in Roswell could mean for her orphan alien husband.

She felt herself melting.

"Oh, Clark, I'm sorry. I never thought of that. . ." She touched his face, relieved when his expression softened. "I just. . ." She kissed him again. "Of course we'll stay as long as you need to." She squeezed his strong hand. "Whatever you need."

She snuggled closer to him, pleased to feel his arm close around her shoulder. He didn't say anything, but the warmth of his body, and the kiss he placed against her forehead, said it all.

In his arms, she awaited their arrival in Roswell, New Mexico, if not with glee, then at least with a renewed sense of purpose. Maybe Clark would be able to find some connections here. And wasn't that what everyone was looking for?

Even her?

(SECTION BREAK)

Max shivered as an early morning breeze threaded through his bedroom. Liz had left the window open when she'd come to talk to him last night and he'd been so caught up in what she had to say, and all that came after, that he'd never thought to close it until now. He knew, though, that if he was cold, she must be freezing. Even in her sleep. . .

He watched her breathing softly beside him and gently pulled the quilt up over her bare arms. She looked so peaceful, her soul finally freed, that it seemed a shame to wake her. But with dawn coming, she would need to be stealing back to the Café before her parents discovered she'd never come home last night and his discovered that she'd spent the night in Max's room. Talking. Of course, talking, but they would never believe that.

Why should they? Not with their history. . .

Gauging that he still had a little time before his parents woke up, and knowing that Michael was opening the Crashdown that day, (meaning the Parkers would hopefully be sleeping in), he indulged himself a few minutes to once again run last night's . . . revelations across the movie screen in his mind.

It had all been an act; an elaborate, staged lie.

Liz had not slept with Kyle Valenti, nor had she ever, for a single minute, stopped loving him.

Max listened to her retell, in a pained and faltering voice, the events of those fateful two days; of how a . . . a future version of himself had come to her; how "he" had begged her to help him, first, to see Tess in a new light, then second, to find some way to make him fall out of love with her. His Liz. Because somehow, in some way, their loving each other, would at some point in the future, bring about the end of the world. It seemed amazing, but he was forced to admit that if he was possible, so too was this. To protect the people she loved, to protect this world, she had told the greatest lie ever; that she did not love him, that she would not die for him, and in so doing, she had proven that lie wrong, though no one knew. She'd born that lie alone. For him. Until now.

And when he saw the raw, exhausted pain on her face, pain that had accumulated through six months of protecting that lie, his heart broke and the anger and confusion that had poisoned his life since then evaporated into so much nothing.

Why she'd done what she'd done. . . It was almost too much to bear. He loved her so much he didn't think he could ever truly express it.

They talked through the night and he never once pressured her about her choices, except to reassure her they would find a way to make it all work without sacrificing this thing that lived between them. And somewhere just a few hours before dawn, his arms held gently, protectively, around her, they both drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

A sleep from which he now had to awaken her.

"Liz. . ." A soft kiss to the forehead, lingering. Heady scent of almonds from her hair. "Liz, we need to get you home. Everyone will be up soon."

Liz awoke slowly, stretching her body easily against his, her cool hands sliding over his bare skin to hold him in an easy embrace. "Good morning," she breathed, placing a kiss over his heart to match the one she'd given him the night before.

Holding his breath, he counted to 10, slowly, focusing on the roses embroidered in ribbon on her pale pink sweater, the basketball resting against the bedroom door, the photo of he and Iz in clown makeup that was framed and sitting on his nightstand. . .

Taking a deep breath, he reluctantly moved her away from his side. "Home, remember?"

"Love you, remember?" she said softly, looking up at him with those large, liquid eyes.

His smile was broad and free and felt amazing. "How could I forget?"

Before he could say anything else, she was nodding. "You're right, though. If Mom catches me coming home at this hour, you may never see me again. . ." She grinned, then her eyebrows raised as an idea came to her. "I know! I'll go straight to the Café and put on my uniform. I'll just tell them I wanted an extra shift today."

"Liz Parker-brilliant even at five am. . ."

She gracefully accepted the compliment, slipping the blanket from her arms, stopping briefly to blush at the sight of Max's bare torso. Then she was off the bed and at the open window.

He caught her as she turned to say her 'goodbyes,' and giving in to what he was feeling, he gathered her into his arms. "Not without this," he said, his voice soft. And then he was kissing her and she was melting against him. In a rush of light and images, he felt their connection open and he reveled as much in their shared energy, as in the feel of her sweet, soft lips against his own.

How could he have ever thought he'd be able to live without this?

This connection. . .

_tbc…_

His joy now was in knowing that he would never have to.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 2/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Distant Connections – Pt 2

_ibshafer_

Once the luggage was retrieved and the rental was car picked up, (a Jeep Cherokee-how yummy... NOT!), Clark's rumbling stomach – the man was always hungry – had them searching for a breakfast spot rather than locating the hotel. Which was fine with Lois. Anything called the "Tumbleweed Motor Court" could only benefit from an after-dark arrival. Or at least, an 'after-a-full-stomach' arrival, which was probably the best she could hope for.

As they turned into the tiny town, Lois felt her nose wrinkling at the shop windows with swinging signs that advertised such wonders as "Wash and Set - $10," "Logan Hardware-Power Tools R US!," and her favorite, the lovely and sanitary-looking "Cheese Factory Outlet Store."

She was about to close her eyes and let her husband pick the eatery when something truly ghastly caught her eye. Protruding from the front of a brick store front was a tacky metal "flying saucer", adorned with animated neon lights proclaiming the establishment to be the "Crashdown Café."

"Oh, goody," Lois mumbled aloud. "I was so afraid there wouldn't be any really _good _tacky alien tourist attractions here. . ."

"What was that, hon?" Clark asked, hands on the steering wheel. Looking over at her brought his gaze to said tacky alien tourist attraction diner. "Oh, hey!" he said with characteristic glee. "Let's eat there. It looks like fun."

"Fun?" she began, voice rising. But then she got a look at the boyish joy on his sweet face and she didn't have the heart, or the energy, to explain the real definition of "fun" to him. Swallowing her annoyance (maybe she just needed some good sleep?), she managed a nod and a good wifely smile. "The crash place it is, then."

They entered the "café" and were instantly assaulted with every form of alien memorabilia imaginable, from inflated green alien heads to newspaper clippings and photos of alleged sightings. Lois stifled a groan. At least the place was clean. And empty.

The kitchen was manned by a rather large young brute in a paper hat, seemingly swearing at the grill he stood before. "Man, I hate this job!" he muttered, flipping sausage patties and bacon strips. "Who's idea was it that I open today, anyway?"

"I believe it was yours, Einstein!" answered a smooth, slightly muffled, female voice. Clearly, not the grill. "Prom time is almost here. You need money for your tux rental."

"Not if I don't go," Einstein said snidely with a glance to his right.

"We're not having this discussion again, Michael. You said we were going and we're going. End of story!" Just then the swinging door beside the counter slammed open and a tiny waitress dressed in a charming mint green uniform and perfectly spiraled strawberry blond hair burst out. "Try to back out again and I'm calling the limo company to reserve the stretch! Come to think of it, I don't want to show up at my senior prom in a banged-up, rusted Jetta! You better open tomorrow, too!"

"Maria!" the beleaguered boyfriend moaned from his grill, but Lois could see the tiny grin he hid from the girl and it was clear to her this Maria could have anything she wanted. Lois found it hard not to smile at their histrionics, remembering that she and Clark hadn't exactly started out as cooing love-birds either.

Clark had just found the "Please Seat Yourself" sign and was motioning her over to a booth. She slid in just as Waitress Maria, alien-head apron in place, arrived to give them menus.

"Morning, folks," she said, setting coffee cups before them. "Shall I?" She motioned to the empty cups.

Maria had an easy, friendly manner to her and through the early morning fatigue, Lois could see her humor showing through.

"Yes," she smiled genuinely. "Please."

Maria smiled in return, filled their cups and left them to look over the menu.

A moment later and a jangling bell on the front door heralded the arrival of a breathless, and somewhat anxious-looking, young brunette.

Maria looked up from the counter, clearly surprised at the girl's appearance. "Liz?" She glanced to the back, then to the front door again, confused. "What did you- Did you get up early or something?" A pause and the "light" went on. "Waaaait a minute! Isn't that the sweater you were wearing last night?"

The girl seemed nervous, but was clearly . . . glowing. A giddy grin broke out across her face.

From her seat, Lois hid her smirk behind the menu. Small town girls never change, do they? For that matter, neither do city girls.

"It's not what you think, Maria!" Liz began, shaking her head. "Well, it is, but . . . but it's not."

"Sweetie, you're making less sense than usual. . ."

"Look, I'll explain everything later, but right now, I need your help! If my mom asks, I signed up for this extra shift a week ago, OK?"

Maria fixed her with a steady gaze, one eyebrow arched. "Didn't think you'd make it up the fire escape without waking her, huh?"

"I swear, sometimes I think she sleeps outside my door. . ."

As if on cue, a smooth, mature, motherly voice rang out from the back. "Michael! Did you get the sauce for the breakfast special ready yet?"

As the cook called back his reply, Maria rushed Liz into the restroom. "Wait in here! I'll get you your uniform when I can."

"Thanks, Maria! I don't know what I'd do-"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, waving her away. "You couldn't live without me. No one can live without me." A smirk. "And I expect full disclosure by second period, ya got it?"

The restroom door closed, just as the swinging door from the kitchen opened and a tall, pale red-head strode through. A somehow familiar tall, pale red-head.

"Maria," said the woman. "Can you handle the morning rush by yourself?"

"Don't have to Mrs. Parker," she said easily. "Liz signed up for an extra shift last week."

Mrs. Parker. . .? Did she know any Parkers?

The woman seemed surprised by Maria's statement. "Oh, _did _she?"

Maria was nodding. "I don't know if she wrote it down on the schedule, but she told me she was coming in. Something about needing money for a . . . a prom dress."

Mrs. Parker paused and then smiled. "She and Max got back together? Well, good. . . She's been miserable for months." Looking around the café and not seeing her daughter, the woman turned back to Maria. "So, where is she?"

Maria seemed taken aback for a second, but quickly recovered. "Her stomach was bothering her. She's. . ." She nodded to the closed restroom door.

The woman didn't seem surprised. "She's so sensitive. Happens all the time. The Pepto is in the first-aid box in the back. Make sure she takes some when she gets out, OK? I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Wait. . . Didn't her mom's cousin Nancy marry a Parker? She hadn't seen her since they were young, but Lois seemed to remember that she was a redhead.

Finding her voice, Lois stood from the table before the woman could leave.

"Nancy?" Mrs. Parker turned around, taking a couple steps towards her. "It's Lois. Lois Lane."

Recognition dawned slowly. "Lois?" Nancy said finally, before her in two strides. A moment's hesitation and they were hugging each other warmly. "I haven't seen you since . . . since the day you got your braces off! What brings you to Roswell?"

"Ah, that would be my husband," Lois said with a smirk. "Nancy, Clark. Clark, Nancy. . . . Clark is here to cover a story for the Daily Planet."

"A reporter, eh?"

Shaking her hand and smiling that beautific Clark Kent smile, he nodded to his wife. "We both are."

Over Nancy's shoulder, Lois saw the restroom door open a crack and a pair of worried-looking eyes peep through.

"Nancy," Lois said quickly. "I'd love to meet that husband of yours. Is he awake yet?" The door slipped quickly closed.

"Jeff? Oh, sure." She motioned them towards the back. "Come on up. I'll make you breakfast myself."

As they followed her cousin, Lois clearly saw Maria mouth the words, "thank you!" in her direction. Lois nodded and smiled back. Maria wasn't the only one that was going to be needing "full disclosure" later on. . .

(SECTION BREAK)

Breakfast eaten, family histories caught up, Lois and Clark were comfortably settled, not at the Tumbleweed Motor Court, but in the Parker's spare bedroom. Lois had tried to resist, but Nancy had insisted and as she relaxed against the soft, chenille spread, she was glad of it. Nancy was the earth-mother type, ready and willing to fuss over them, but just as ready to give them their space. The room was comfortable and light and thankfully free of clichéd desert motifs. Nope, nary a tumbleweed in sight. Desert duds unpacked and his itinerary for the day nailed down, Clark was showering for his first trek out. Lois had begged off to get some sleep and her husband, knowing, she was sure, how much more supportive she would be with a few more hours pillow time, had relented. She very much needed to rest.

Something she'd happily be doing right now, if she weren't somehow hearing the deep convo between Nancy's wayward daughter, Liz and her sassy friend, Maria, courtesy of the opened window and a mischievous breeze. . .

". . . so then you didn't sleep with him?" Lois could hear the disbelief in Maria's voice, even at this distance.

"Well, yes, I did. . . . I mean, we slept." A pause, presumably while Maria raised an eyebrow or two. "We just slept. After we talked. For hours." Pause. "Hand me my deodorant, will you?"

"Waaait a minute, here! You don't get to get ready for school until you really talk to me." Maria said, voice rising. "You expect me to believe that you finally get that boyfriend of yours right where you want him, after months and months of pining away over him, after almost doing the deed last spring, and you still didn't . . . you know. . ."

"Yes! That's exactly what I expect you to believe!" sailed back Liz's voice, clearly indignant. "After all we've been through, there was so much to talk about, so much to explain."

"Ooooh, right. That whole Future Max thing."

Lois picked her head up off the pillow. _'That whole Future Max thing?'_

"I mean, there are things we have to work out . . . you know, with Tess. I think . . . I think it's gonna be OK, though."

"Yeah, you think so?"

A pause, maybe while Liz nodded in response. "I think Future Max was right. Not the part about Max and Tess having to be together, but the part about how he needed to treat Tess better or she'd eventually leave."

"Oh, boo-hoo. . ."

"C'mon, Maria. Look at it from her point of view." Liz's voice was muffled, as though she were pulling a sweater over her head as she spoke. "With Nasedo dead, she had no one but them, and they didn't want to have anything to do with her. Until Future Max showed up, the only thing Max had done right by Tess was to ask Sheriff Valenti to let her stay with them. For the first time in her life, she sort of has a home. . ."

"Again – you're making me cry, Liz."

"Stay with me here, Maria, OK?" Pause. Lois could picture the petite blond giving in with a nod. "So now Tess feels like she's a part of things and. . ."

". . .and?"

"And it looks like she and Kyle might actually have something going on. She's got a role in the group and maybe a little respect, a place to stay where someone clearly worries if she's missing-"

"To, say, Vegas?"

"And a guy to focus her attention on who isn't Max." The relief in Liz's voice was obvious here.

_A rival, huh? _

"So. . . You think she'll stick around for 14 years?"

"Until the invasion?" Liz paused, perhaps to consider this.

"Yeah, until the Skins reach earth in . . . what was it? 2014?"

_Hold on a minute! What were these two girls talking about? _

"Well, now that Max knows a little bit more about what the Granolith can do, he and I are going to go up there after school today and see if we can . . . . I don't know, get it to do something. . ."

"Maybe Max can work a little of his alien voo-doo on it." Maria sounded amused.

Lois wasn't. Alien voo-doo? Had these girls let living in Roswell go to their heads? A healthy imagination was one thing, but. . .

Maria continued. "Well, he did heal you and Kyle. Oh and my own spaceboy, just a couple months ago. Maybe he can heal the Granolith, too." Maria giggled.

"Thanks for the comic relief, Maria, but I was thinking more along the lines of bringing in the orbs and seeing what they might be able to stir up."

"Oooooh. And ever since we found out last fall that you've now got some alien powers of your own, you can help!"

"Exactly!"

_Alien powers? _

OK, the Man of Steel had alien powers. But these kids?

Maybe. . . maybe there really were aliens in Roswell.

What were they thinking, talking so loud? Not even being careful about who heard them. . .

Lois considered her next move carefully for a full minute and then, still hearing the girls chatting through the window, she got up, parted the curtains and leaned out.

"Oh, Liz?" she called, as gently as she could.

There was a sudden, weighty pause from the other room.

"I think you and I need to talk. . ."

_tbc…_


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 3/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Could Max Evans and Clark Kent be connected somehow? It was just too good an idea to pass up…

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Distant Connections – Pt 3

_ibshafer_

Every part of Max felt lighter than air; his hands on the steering wheel, his feet on the pedals, his arms, his hair, his heart. . .

He was driving to pick up Liz, his girlfriend, and take her to school. Liz. His girlfriend. . .

How cool was that?

OK, so it wasn't the first time he'd done this, but for some reason . . for some reason everything seemed fresh and new now. Maybe it was this amazing, though warm, spring morning. More likely it was Liz's revelations the night before. And the fact that she loved him. And not anyone else. There were serious problems to solve, but they would. Together. And . . . and it was all going to be OK. Now. Finally.

Something had been missing from his life, from his body, ever since that awful night last fall. He knew it was his heart, but somehow his body continued to walk around Roswell, despite the fact that nothing was pumping his blood. And now that he had it back, his heart, he felt like he could fly!

Now, wouldn't that be a great power to have?

Pulling into an open space in front of the Crashdown, he strolled around to the alley and the stairs leading up to the Parker residence. Unfortunately, the way was blocked by a shiny, white Jeep Cherokee. And some big guy in safari duds carrying what appeared to be a heavy box of equipment like just so much cotton candy.

"Morning," Max said. "Can I . . . can I give you a hand with that?" Though the guy clearly needed no help.

"No, no, I'm fine," the man said, suddenly gripping the box more tightly, supporting its weight. "Thanks anyway, though."

He had a big, easy grin and a very steady way about him. Max noticed things like that now – how people carried themselves. Since he'd been working out so much-ostensibly to prepare for the fight ahead, but more truthfully, to keep his mind off his Liz troubles – he'd felt the play of muscles over his frame change, his movements more sure, more controlled, more . . . more economical.

Just like this guy. Not wasting a step or a flex.

Of course, now he was blocking the stairs, just standing there with a rather large toothed grin on his wide expressive face. And that's when Max noticed something sort of odd about him.

It was an unseasonably warm morning for Roswell in April; 85 degrees with 90 humidity. It was sure to rain before the day was out. Which though not exactly normal for this time of year, was not that strange thing here.

No, the strange thing was that it looked like this man had just carried a half dozen crates of heavy equipment down a full flight of stairs and loaded them into his car... all without breaking a sweat. Nary a bead.

And there he was, not sweating and standing in Max's way. . .

". . .um, you know the Parker's?" Max asked, squinting in the morning's sun.

"Not until today," the big guy laughed. "But it turns out we're related. Through my wife."

"Oh. . ." Max nodded, filling time. He was wishing the man would get the idea and step out of the way. Which he didn't. Like he was guarding the stairs. Like he was some big protector or something. "I . . . I'm dating Liz," Max finally said, surprised at the emotion and the way her name still caught in his throat. Sweet. He put his hand out. "I'm Max Evans."

"Clark Kent." Hand extended, they shook. . .

And it was as if a bolt of lighting had struck him at the base of his spine and traveled straight to his brain. Images filled his head, of spaceships, and barns, and aerial views, and he was conscious of not only the things he was seeing, but the fact that he still held the man's hand firmly in his. More images; a sadly deflated basketball and a child crying in his mother's arms; the free feeling of running through a field of new wheat, a speeding train moving in sync beside him; the face of a beautiful, brown-haired woman, smiling at him, beckoning to him. . .

Then the connection was broken and they stood regarding each other, stunned and breathing heavily. And, Max noted, the guy was finally sweating.

"Who . . . who _are _you?" the man asked between breaths.

"I was . . . I was about to ask _you _that."

(SECTION BREAK)

Liz had tried, vainly, to elude Lois's questions, but with the skill of one used to such evasion, and the burning need to know that can only come from a personal connection to the subject matter, the reporter had worn her down.

And of course, it helped that she'd basically heard everything already.

The girls were clearly guarded about the subject and just as clearly scared. Liz was in love with this alien boy and desperate to protect him. Lois could understand that. (Though Clark was probably in a better position to take care of himself than Max was.) It had taken quite a lot of reassuring to quell the panic she could see rising in the girl, a dicey proposition when Lois was trying to avoid an alien admission of her own. She wasn't ready to cross that line yet. Protecting Clark's secret identity was tantamount to protecting her own way of life. . .

On some level, Lois was aware of how vindicated Clark was going to feel when she revealed to him that she'd already found what he'd come to Roswell to look for, and while she was never very good at the crow-eating thing, she also knew how truly important this was to him.

When she came out to join her questing hubby in the alley, she meant to surprise him with the amazing news.

She had no idea he was fixing to surprise her with pretty much the same thing. . .

Opening the screen door to find Clark standing, grinning, on the other side, Lois nearly jumped out of her skin. From behind, Maria and Liz skidded to a stop, bumping into Lois. She heard Clark echo Maria's involuntary giggle and fixed her husband with a raised eyebrow and a silent plea for some grown-up decorum.

It was a lost cause, though.

"Guess what, Lois?!" Clark was all wide-eyed excitement; like he'd discovered the missing link or something. "You're not going to believe this!"

A rather lovely, dark-haired young man had come up from behind Clark on the stairs. He looked through the screen door as though searching for something of great importance to him and did not relax until his eyes had lit upon that thing.

_Liz. _

So _this _was Max Evans. . .

Clark's joy could no longer be contained. She was about to tell him she knew all about it, when Clark interrupted her.

"Guess who's an alien, too?" he hissed, leaning close, his voice a whisper meant to be heard only by the two of them.

Super Whispers don't always stay whispered, though. Or maybe Liz just had really good hearing. Aw, who was she kidding. If Clark hadn't beaten her to the punch, she'd be the excited one right now. And forget the whispering. . .

"'Too'?" the young girl asked incredulously. "What did he mean by 'too?'" Beside her, Maria's look was just as incensed.

Lois just shrugged and plastered a sheepish grin onto her face.

"It's not as though I lied to you, Liz," she said, backpedaling. "I just. . . I just. . ."

"You just left out one amazingly pertinent fact," Maria said, tartly.

Just then, Nancy called from the kitchen. "Liz?! Are you two still here? You're going to be late for school!!"

Maria mother-henned them all out the door.

"W-we're leaving now, Mom!" Liz called back to her, unsteadily, her cheeks coloring. Lois thought it was Liz's mother, and the fear of being late, that had caused the blush in her.

She was wrong.

In the alley, Liz faced off with Lois. "You expected me to trust you, but you couldn't trust me?" she said, her voice controlled, but hoarse.

Maria looked like she might be getting ready to throw a punch. . .

Lois felt her own face grow warm.

Clark was suddenly at her side, one strong arm around her shoulder. Where was her spine, she was wondering? She was letting a little girl intimidate her? She, Lois Lane, who had stood up to gangsters and murderers and arch villains and not batted an eye?

The difference this time was that Liz was right and Lois knew it.

She stood mutely, fumbling for an answer, THE answer, not knowing how to say it or if Liz would believe her when she figured it out.

Ever-helpful, Clark jumped in, his tone soft and low and reassuring. "Liz, I'm sure you understand the importance of keeping secrets-"

The girl turned on him, eyes blazing. "I was trying to when cousin Mata Hari, here, read me back the notes she'd taken on the conversation she'd eavesdropped on. . ."

Clark shot Lois a questioning look and she finally found her tongue.

"Liz, you have to believe me. I wasn't spying on you two. I could just hear you talking. And once I figured out what you were talking about, I knew how dangerous it could be if anyone else heard."

"She knew that," Clark said, softly, "Because yours is the kind of secret she's kept, for . . . for me, for seven years now."

It was then Lois noticed that while Max's hands were rubbing, soothingly, at Liz's shoulders, he had his eyes glued to her husband. From the fascination she read there, she suspected they hadn't moved from him since before she and the girl had come down the stairs.

What had happened while she was up with the girls?

_tbc…_


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 4/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Distant Connections – Pt 4

_ibshafer_

By the time they'd made plans to meet after school, they were truly late. Liz's cousin Lois shepherded them into the principal's office where her husband, Clark, flashed his press pass and spun a story about how he'd stopped the teens on the street to get some "candid" interviews for the article he was writing and hadn't realized how late it was. Mr. Forrester eyed the man a second longer than made Max comfortable, but in the end, he seemed to buy it.

Outside the principal's office they said some quick goodbyes, Clark asked a few questions about the map Max had drawn to get them to Buckley Point for their meeting later that day, and then he and the beautiful, brown-haired woman Max had seen when he and Clark had connected, left the school.

Max stared off after the man in wonder, almost unwilling to let him out of his sight. The images he'd gotten from him... He couldn't explain any of it. There were no words. But how it felt... That was different. And what it could mean?

_Wow... . _

Inside, Max's heart was still beating a mile a minute and his brain had done at least two somersaults in his head since they'd first met Clark, but outside, he was trying to keep a tight lid on what he was showing. He knew it would scare Liz to see him that kind of confused and that particular kind of excited.

He felt a soft hand slip into his own and give it a squeeze. "Max?" Liz said, standing so close he could smell her freshly washed hair. "You OK?" Absently, he nodded, just breathing in the scent, until he felt a gentle tug on his arm. "Hel-looo... ? Max, we have to get going. We are so late..."

Finally, he tore himself away from the open doorway. The Cherokee had long since disappeared.

"Liz, I..." He shook his head softly. He just couldn't seem to organize his thoughts. And the last place he wanted to be right now was here in school. Not when he was on the verge of ... knowing. "It's just that..."

"What is it, Max?" There was concern in Liz's deep brown eyes.

Some of what he was feeling had clearly slipped onto his face. Then again, Liz could read the things he didn't show. And he loved her for it.

Taking a deep breath, Max gathered her into his arms and held her very close, feeling her heart beat wildly against him. He knew he was scaring her and sorry for it, he smoothed his hands over her back and kissed her sweetly on the forehead. It was his silent 'I love you' kiss and its meaning was not lost on her.

"I love you, too," she whispered back.

Still holding her hands, he took a step back. "Liz, I think I ... know that man..." he said, boiling it down to the most salient point

Liz seemed to chew on that for a second. "Y-you don't mean because you've seen him around before, either, do you?"

Max shook his head, his mind reeling from the implications. "I mean I think I know him ... from _before_..."

(SECTION BREAK)

Lois stopped the car next to a public recreation area; lots of handball courts and basketball hoops, mostly empty – with school in session. A few moms and toddlers were gathered in the sandbox/jungle gym/swing area, but the place was mostly deserted. Which was what she was going for. There'd be no 'alone' back at her cousin's place and alone was something they very much needed to be right now.

They needed to talk.

Now.

Clark hadn't even flinched when she'd jumped into the driver's seat. Usually he liked to be in control. Easier for him to protect her if he was behind the wheel. _Her man... _Yet there he sat, staring distractedly out the window at the passing small-town American homes, practically vibrating with energy. He was excited. And confused.

And, it would seem, very, very happy.

Oh, and completely and utterly beautiful, too. She loved when he got all flushed like that, the color rising to his cheeks, the excitement leaking out his eyes and fingers and toes. Had the circumstances been different, she no doubt would have let him know just how much she loved it...

But something big and momentous had clearly happened between Clark and the alien boy, Max Evans. The conversation on the way to the school was maddeningly sparse on details. At least, sparing of the revelatory kind. They talked about meeting when school was out, and where. They spoke of keeping silent about what they'd just learned, though they wouldn't say what that was. And then they'd talked about _basketball_, for pity's sake! Men could be so maddening... . She'd tried to ask Clark what had happened, but he'd suggested the car might be bugged. She'd rolled her eyes. And then Liz and Maria had attempted to get Max to talk, and he'd silenced them with a slight, but powerful, head shake, clearly accustomed to being in control himself.

Come to think of it, for an 18 year old, he carried himself as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. Living with Clark, it was something she was very familiar with...

She was brimming with questions about Max, though. Clark's meeting with him had obviously affected him profoundly, far more so than it would have if Max were just another alien. Clark had met other aliens before. Some were good. Some were not. He'd dealt with each in turn, but none of them with the level of excitement he seemed to be experiencing now. Why?

She turned to her husband, trying to keep her impatience in check, fully expecting to fail at it...

"OK, Clark. Spill. What's the deal with the kid?" Clark still had his gaze fixed out the window, but now he was idly drumming his fingers against the door. "Hello? Clark, I already know he's an alien, so what else could there be here? He's clearly one of the "good" kind, and, judging from my young cousin, very friendly." No reaction from her husband. "Clark!" She grabbed his arm. "Clark, talk to me! What is it?"

As if coming out of a reverie, Clark stirred at the window and finally turned to her. "What was that, Lois?"

Lois bit her tongue to keep from screaming. "What has got you, if you'll pardon the expression, so spaced out? What did you find out about this boy?"

Clark hesitated for a moment and it was then that she noticed the tears in his eyes and knew that the reason for his flushed cheeks wasn't just excitement, it was deep emotion and ... and was that relief there?

"I'm sorry, Lois. Sorry I haven't been talking to you about this. I just ... I just don't know what to think. That _boy._.." He broke off again, shaking his head and almost laughing. "That boy is my... _my brother._.."

What?!

Now Lois didn't know what to say...

A weak "h-how is that possible?" was all she could manage.

Clark just shook his head, clearly as incredulous as she was. "I don't know. I just know that's it's true..."

_tbc…_


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 5/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Author's Note: This story was written before the series had ended, after Nasedo had died, after the "end of the world", but before any late season 2 developments; guess that makes it AU…

Distant Connections – Pt 5

_ibshafer_

"Man! Fifth period could not come fast enough today!" Michael burst into the crowded storage room, muttering heatedly. "Now, someone wanna tell me what all the secret agent stuff is about?"

Alex shrugged an 'I dunno,' in Michael's general direction and Maria left Liz's side to join Michael in the doorway, giving him a desultory 'hello' kiss which Michael barely noticed.

Max could tell Michael resented being summoned here, which didn't make organizing his thoughts any easier. Sometimes Michael was just so ... _Michael_. Why did he have to be so angry all the time? Even when there wasn't an obvious reason like ... like being called to a meeting without any explanation as to why... OK, so that explained _today's_ attitude, anyway...

And though he knew Clark had asked that the five of them keep the morning's revelation to themselves, this was Big. They all needed to know.

Max had passed his meeting request along the usual lines of communication; each was asked to tell the next one they saw.

Maria and Liz had arrived first and Max was truly grateful for it. He clasped the tiny hand he held even tighter, trying to draw some strength from Liz's calm. Alex and Tess had been the next to arrive. Then Kyle. And now Michael.

For some reason, Tess had been on edge ever since she'd gotten there and neither Kyle's usual jock come-ons nor his regurgitated Buddhist platitudes, which usually just cracked her up, could calm her pacing. Max would have chalked it up to Tess's typical Liz-discomfort, which no doubt was more acute than ever since his reconciliation with Liz (the news of which was all over school by 3rd period), but something told him there was more to it than that. Much as Max hated to accept it, he and Tess were tied together on some level. He was aware of her emotions, even if he couldn't track the source. And something was definitely ... not right with her.

And then there was Michael, ever the soul of patience, who broke into his musings with a tightly barked, "Well?"

"We're waiting for Isabel to get here," Alex supplied gamely.

"Story of your life, eh, Alex?" Michael snapped.

Kyle stifled a giggle, but Alex just rolled his eyes, unfazed. He, like everyone else, knew when to take Michael seriously and when his temper had just gotten the better of him.

Michael pulled up an overturned bucket and sat down. "So, do I get a preview, anyway?"

Looking him dead in the eye, Max held Michael's gaze for a moment.

"I met someone this morning," he began after a very deep breath.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tess's step falter for a beat.

"Big whoop," Michael said, unimpressed.

Kyle had been standing near a rack of cleaning products, inspecting his cuticles in a less that Zen-like way, when his patience and his philosophical platitudes clearly reached their end. Maybe it was Tess's pacing. Maybe it was Michael's 'happy' vibe. Whichever...

"As touched as I am to have been invited here to the Oval Office," he said. "My human body actually needs to eat lunch..."

Just then, Isabel slipped into the darkened room, out of breath and clearly agitated.

"Max, I've been freaked out since I saw you in the hall before last period. What the hell is going on?"

"Iz, relax... . Everything is fine." This seemed to do little to reassure her. "Have a seat. I'll try to explain what I know."

"I'd rather stand." She was breathing heavily and she couldn't keep her hands still. He hated to see her like this, especially after all she'd been through. Best to get it over with.

"This morning I met someone ... _like us._"

It was as though a bomb had gone off over Michael's head. He stared at Max, incredulous.

"And you waited until friggin' _fifth period _to tell us about it?!" He gave Max a heated look, shaking his head. "Why doesn't that surprise me?"

_Great, just what I need now... _

"Look, Michael. I ... I needed time to think this through, to try and make some sense of it, before I told anyone."

"Max..." There was a look of real hurt on Isabel's face. "Why didn't you come find me as soon as you got into school this morning?"

"Because I ... I wasn't sure what it meant," he said softly, hoping they would all hear the truth of it in his voice. "I'm telling you now, aren't I?"

Kyle cleared his throat. "Technically? Not yet..."

He glanced around the room to the expectant faces of his friends and confidants, and then began.

Choosing his words carefully, Max recounted his meeting that morning with Clark Kent; the instant connection that had been made, the feeling of incredible power he'd felt in him, the mind-numbing images he'd gotten from him, and the realization that not only was this stranger like them, an alien, but that somehow Max had known him – in his life before.

Michael was staring at him, incredulously. "And you just let him walk away?! How do you know he's not a Skin? Or worse!? He could have been Kivar! He could have been anyone!"

How could he explain it to them when he could barely explain to himself. He just knew that he could trust the man.

"He's not a Skin, Michael. I would have known that..." He felt Liz's hand tighten around his own, found the strength, went on.

"I don't know how I know this, I just ... I just do." He paused, remembering something else, another impression he'd gotten from the man. His glance slipped over to Tess for a second and he saw that she was frozen in her tracks and that her face had gone ashen. He chose his words carefully. "I've ... I've never remembered anything from ... from my other life before, never remembered anything about our world. But I remember this man. I know that I knew him and I know that he was very important to me."

Michael worked his jaw for a moment, about to speak, when suddenly Tess mumbled something incoherent.

"What was that, Tess?" Michael asked.

She almost seemed frightened.

"I said... I-I was wondering how long it would take you to find out..."

(SECTION BREAK)

The seconds ticked by.

Everyone held their breath while Max clenched and unclenched his jaw. A moment more of heavy silence, which no one dared break, and then he sensed movement in the cramped closet. His eyes were still glued to Tess's, afraid that if he looked away for even a second, she'd disappear, but he could see in the periphery the lot of them being herded out the door by Liz and Maria. Isabel hung back and Michael sullenly resisted, but in the end, they left. The door closed behind Michael with a soft click, cutting out the light from the hallway.

Max suspected they hadn't put up more of a fight because they knew him well enough to know this was not a conversation he was going to have with all of them there. No doubt they'd find an empty lounge or classroom somewhere and commence speculating their heads off.

_So... _

So, now it was just the two of them; the "king" and his "bride."

"It's not what you think, Max." Tess's voice was small and a bit unsteady.

"You mean, it's not that you knew something vitally important about our past, my past, and you chose to conceal it for some reason?"

Tess bit her lip, then smiled nervously. "OK, it _is _what you think." She fumbled with her hands for a moment, then took a deep breath. "But it is not some big conspiracy."

Max took a deep breath and tried to swallow the bile rising in the back of his throat, knowing from experience that it'd be harder to get her to talk if he blustered at her. Though he very much wanted to.

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

She tossed back her head, almost laughing now. "Oh, like you've been soooo interested in your other life," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "It's like you think that if you find out what that life was like, you'll start to remember. And then you'll remember that you once loved me." Eyes narrowed, she clicked her tongue a few times. "Can't have that, now, can we?"

Max didn't have time to wallow in guilt right now. He knew the man that he had been owed the woman she had been ... something, he just didn't feel the man he was now should be held to that. He couldn't make himself feel something he didn't feel, but he was not without pity for her.

Pity and love are two very different things, though.

"Tess..." he said, more gently.

"Look, I just didn't think it was relevant, OK? I never thought your paths would ever cross. As weird as our lives are, it's still a big world, Max."

Oh, she knew something all right. Something pretty specific, too, from the sounds of it. What was she talking about?! What was it about Clark Kent?

Max could remember the zing of power he'd gotten from the man when they'd shaken hands that morning and a vision of his face, glowing in the reddish light of a different sun. And he remembered a familiarity. And ... and comfort.

He was so confused.

"So tell me - who is he, Tess? I-I _know _him, don't I?"

She was chewing her lip again, clearly not wanting to continue. "Well ... you do and you don't."

He felt his jaw tightening as he fought the urge to shake her into making sense.

"You're gonna explain that, aren't you?"

After another excruciating minute of hand-wringing and lip-chewing, Tess finally spoke. "OK ... you know how we were told that we were hybrids - a mixture of human and alien DNA?" He nodded tightly and she continued. "Well ... _your _mix was a little different from the rest."

"What?"

"...Max, your's is more of a _3_-way mix. And ... the third part is..."

"Is what?!"

She looked up at him slowly, eyes steady, seemingly resigned, now that she'd started, to just say it and get it out there in the open.

"The reason you know this man, the reason he seems familiar to you ... is because his father is _your _father."

(SECTION BREAK)

Lois was grateful for the Cherokee's air conditioning. New Mexico was definitely living up to its rep today.

But ungodly hot or no, nothing could have kept them away from this meeting.

"That boy is my ... my _brother_..."

Once again, Clark's words, and his belief in them, rocked through her. From a planet that had destroyed itself, halfway across the galaxy, before this young man was even born, somehow came a sibling? Over the past six years or so, Lois had been expected to believe some pretty unbelievable things, but this one ... this one just refused to sink it.

Giving up on it for the moment, she returned her attention to the present. Off road now, they passed a sign that read "Buckley Point." She could see the cliff and, shimmering beyond it, the water below.

The kids were sullenly waiting for them when they got there and, Lois noted with surprise, their numbers had swelled. Clark seemed to register the crowd with a faint unease and she knew he was displeased that Max had obviously told his friends. There was no way Clark could reveal his identity to so many, especially when that 'so many' was a group of gossipy teens.

Lois counted eight of them, including Michael, the beleaguered short-order cook from the café this morning. There was a statuesque blond who could have been two years into a successful modeling career by now, a skinny kid sporting "grungewear" and flushed cheeks (he seemed very aware of the model), another boy, this one very powerfully built and dressed in a school sports jacket, and a tiny, but buxom, blond who was pacing in front of the cliff edge, twitching as she walked.

Now that she was really looking, she saw they were all watching this blond, save the grunge kid who still seemed slightly preoccupied with the model.

She, on the other hand, could not keep her eyes off the boy. Inwardly, she chastised herself for not having seen it before. It was so incredibly obvious to her now.

_The resemblence... _

Both men, because she was forced to admit there was nothing boyish about Max Evans, had dark hair, powerfully muscled bodies and faces of amazing beauty, but the comparison went beyond the superficial. In both, she could see barely contained power, inner passion, and a desperate urge to do right coupled with a true need for anonymity. These things might not be perceptible to the untrained eye, but Lois was a seasoned reporter, much used to searching out the true nature behind the people she interviewed. And she was already an expert on this particular subject; she could read her husband like a book.

And now this young man, as well.

She knew her husband loved her deeply. She knew he never regretted that he was here on Earth. She knew he loved the Kents with a fierce, unwavering loyalty. But she also knew there would always be a void inside of him and a need that could never be filled.

_Until now. _

She glanced over to him as he unbuckled his seat belt and prepared to meet the group. There was no mistaking the look of barely contained joy poised on his face. She caught it briefly before he wiped it clean and became, once again, the model of journalistic detachment.

Yeah, right. Lois held back a smile. Journalistically detached, but blushing like a fool...

Then again, maybe not so detached. He couldn't be happy about the crowd gathered before him. Especially when he'd been so clear with Max earlier.

Clark had a smile painted on his face, but his jaw was clenched and the blood was coloring his cheeks more deeply. In his own Clark way, she knew he was angry, but she also knew he'd put on his best diplomatic face and skirt the subject until he could get Max alone to talk with him.

"Max," he said, hand extended as they joined the kids at the cliff. At the last moment, Clark drew his hand back, a fleeting expression of realization on his face; he hadn't wanted to risk another revelatory session here in front of the group. "Nice to see you again... . _And your friends_." This last was rather pointed, a fact not lost on Max.

"It's all right," the youth said steadily. "I trust these people."

As confident of that last statement as Max had clearly wanted to seem, Lois couldn't help noticing a slight twitch over his right eye as he said it. What was going on here?

"All right, then," Clark said, rubbing his hands together. He shyly pushed his glasses back onto his nose. Lois knew how uncomfortable her husband was appearing before more than a couple people. Pretty amazing thing to fear for a man who didn't need to fear much. "You must have a million questions, Max."

Max's eyes grew dark and his face stony.

"Actually ... Clark," he said, hesitantly. "I have some information for you." Casting a quick glance to the nervous blond, he began. "When I first met you... I mean, when we shook hands, I ... I _saw _things."

Clark was nodding to himself. She knew he'd seen "things," too.

Max went on. "That not unusual for me. I've ... connected that way with people before, but it doesn't happen often. When it does, it always means something ... very important." Max paused in his faltering speech and she saw him lift his eyes in search of her young cousin, who smiled warmly at him in response. "T-the ... the things I saw from you... . I couldn't explain them, but ... but they seemed to be telling me that I knew you somehow... "

"From another life," Clark said softly, finishing the sentence for him.

"We were sent here," he said indicating three of his group. "Isabel, Michael, Tess and I, in the hopes that we could some day return to our planet, stop the war that killed us, that is still killing millions, and free our people. I know nothing of the life I lived before, I have no memories of it, but somehow I knew you."

Clark had lost all semblance of reserve. "Because you are my brother," Clark said, his voice filled with emotion. "I just haven't been able to figure out how." He was shaking his head now. "Max, you're eighteen years old. I'm thirty-six. My father died sending me here to Earth. I've been here since I was a baby. How could you possibly know me?"

"I may be eighteen years old, but I - _we've _been here on Earth for over 50 years."

Lois saw Clark echo her thoughts with a whispered, "How?"

"The UFO crash here in 1947..."

"It really did happen." Lois said softly, knowing the feelings that must be running through her husband at this news; it was what he'd believed.

"We were in incubation pods and, somehow, our guardians got us to safety. Forty years later, we were ... _born_... . I thought I knew you, Clark," Max said softly, sadly. "But I was wrong."

Lois saw Clark's face fall at the same time that Max did; the young man continued immediately.

"I never knew you. But I knew your father."

She saw the realization dawn on her husband's face as the pieces started to fall into place. "Our father," he breathed. "But I thought you said you didn't remember anything from your other life?"

"I don't."

The blond, Tess, came up behind Max now, her face flushed with emotions Lois could plainly see: fear; regret; shame; oddly, defiance. She was proud, this little one, despite her obvious guilt.

"I remember everything," she said, her tone quiet but strong. "The others were raised by human parents. I was raised by one of our own. He taught me how to retrieve those memories of my previous life. I remember my life on Antar. Our life. I knew your father."

This last hit Clark hard and he could barely choke out his response. "Y-you did?" His face was hopeful and expectant.

Before them, Tess seemed to change, holding herself more steadily, more confidently, as if bolstered by her memories.

"Jor-el was a scientist of some repute on his planet," she said, smiling up into Clark's open face.

Like a sponge, he was thirsty for her every word.

"He was testing out an interstellar communications device when we became aware of him. Wishing to investigate this new race of people, to see if an alliance would be wise, we sought him out."

"W-we had no means of space travel," Clark said.

"No, not then. Not for several years. And not without our help." She paused, as if just now noticing the attention focused on her from all sides. Her cheeks flushed and she faltered for a moment, then continued. "We established communication with Jor-el alone, found that he was open to an exchange, and retrieved him and brought him to Antar. While we learned that the people of Krypton were not ready for outside contact and so therefore unsuitable for an alliance, we came to have a great deal of respect for Jor-el. In the years that followed, he became an advisor to us." The girl's eyes became warm now and she looked to Clark, who was still standing, transfixed. "Wise. Giving. Open. Patient. He was much beloved amongst the Royal Court." She paused, watching as Clark's face flushed with joy. Her face grew saddened as she went on. "But the war we were fighting, was a war we would lose." She stopped then, lost in her own memories. "Plans were ... plans were made in the eventuality of our deaths. The Court must continue, if not in this life, than in the next. This war would not end when we died. If we could live again and return, it might be won. We had the means - the means to give our people another chance. We searched the galaxy for a suitable world and preparations were made. Our essences were ... combined with DNA from that suitable world. The Royal Four would be reborn. But fearing we might not be strong enough, our King had another plan." She looked to Max who inclined his head ever so slightly.

And there is was! Now Lois understood what she'd seen earlier. The way Max carried himself, the way the others deferred to him, the way he seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders... He _was_. Just not _this _one...

Max stepped forward now, taking over the narrative. "They-I mean, we knew that the sun of your father's homeworld was different from our own and that ours somehow gave him ... abilities he did not have on Krypton. The sun of Antar is a yellow sun. Just like Earth's."

"So they mixed in some of my father's DNA with ... with yours?" he asked, seeing the answer in Max's expression.

"Yes," the young man nodded. "With mine. If I were to lead, if we were to return and win this fight, I would need to be stronger. Stronger than I was ... before."

Clark blinked, incredulous. "Then ... then you know. You know how this yellow sun affects me? How it affects you?"

Max shook his head. "I have no idea how it affects me. Up until now, I had no idea this ... this ability was in me. I'm not really sure what it means. What can you do?"

"Max, I don't know about this... " Clark cast a glance to Lois, but she could only nod dumbly and hope he saw in her face what he needed. She didn't know; could these children be trusted?

Max, as if sensing their reservations, stepped forward, putting a hand on Clark's forearm. She could almost see the jolt of energy that raced through them both. "You can trust each and every one of us here." Clark's gaze went to Tess and Max nodded in understanding. "What you saw when you arrived was our anger, my anger, that Tess had kept this information from me. You have nothing to fear from her. Nothing that you can't handle. Or me, for that matter..."

Taking a deep breath, Clark faced them all. "I need to explain something to you before I ... show you anything. I'm sure you all know how dangerous fear can be. When people fear you, they hurt you. To protect myself and those I love, I had to create another identity... . The things I can do, the abilities I have, I use them to help people in danger. I use them to stop those who would hurt others."

"Kind of like Robocop," the grunge kid supplied.

Lois saw Clark fighting a smirk. "Robocop was a movie. What you're about to see is very, very real..."

And then he was spinning in place, a blur of browns that faded into blues and reds. When he stopped, he was no longer her husband, Clark Kent.

He was now Superman.

Michael the Fry Cook hooted appreciatively. "Oh, cool!" he smirked. "X-Men!!!"

"Michael!" Max hissed.

Superman took it all in stride. "Can Wolverine do this?" he asked, rising gently above the cliff face to float several feet above their heads.

The young man's eyes were wide with disbelief and his jaw had dropped to its limit. He was shaking his head as his eyes followed Superman's movement.

They all stood in stunned silence.

Clearly enjoying himself, Superman launched into a rather simple demonstration of his flying ability, zipping over the edge of the cliff to disappear out of sight, then rocketing back up and past them, to land, calmly on their far side, shocking them all. Strolling to the edge of the cliff, motioning for them to follow, he proceeded to explode a tossed rock with his X-ray vision, then blasted the surface of the water below with his super-breath, freezing it as they watched.

Maria, the snappy waitress from the morning, was the first to speak. "Super!" she said, with much appreciation. "Man, that was really super!"

The Man of Steel shot Lois a look and smiled. "You want to tell them, Lois? Afterall, it was your idea."

"Yup," she said, rolling her eyes as she nodded. "I was the first to name him." She blushed. "It seems kind of silly now, but..."

Superman looked wounded. "Lois!"

"Sorry, hon," she said, an eyebrow raised. "But I'm sure given time I would have come up with something ... different." She grinned apologetically to her slighted, super husband, then glanced to the expectant faces around her. "Superman. His name is Superman."

Michael hooted again. "Oh, right. That's definitely better then "Wolverine."

His waitress girlfriend smacked him on the arm. "I think it's perfect! You can keep your stupid opinion to yourself, spaceboy!"

"You can ... you can fly!" said an awed voice. That was her tiny cousin, Liz, speaking. The girl had moved closer to Max during the demonstration and now wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Does this mean you can fly, too, Max?"

He covered the arms that held him with his own, eyes to Superman as he spoke. "I don't know. I don't think so..."

"Well," said Superman's steady voice. "I guess we have some testing to do, don't we?"

"Test all you want," Maria said and Lois could see her eyeing Tess with suspicion. "What I want to know is ... why didn't Tess think ..." She waved an arm to Superman and the air above their heads which he had just occupied. "..._this _was worth mentioning? To anyone." She moved closer to the blond, who was trying to shrink into the athlete's side. "Seems pretty flippin' "relevant" to me..."

As a group, they turned to the once again nervous Tess.

_tbc…_


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 6/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Author's Note: This story was written before the series had ended, after Nasedo had died, after the _"end of the world", _but before any late season 2 developments; guess that makes it AU…

br 

Distant Connections – Pt 6

_ibshafer_

br 

Tess shrank back visibly from them and Max could see the defiance starting to color her cheeks.

As much as he'd wanted to trust her, wanted to believe her silence had just been ill-thought out or an oversight, he couldn't help sensing a sickly guilt coming from her now and he wondered briefly how he could have mistaken its meaning before.

"What are you hiding, Tess?" he asked, his jaw tightening.

Folding her arms across her chest, she boldly turned her back to them.

Superman took a step forward as if to help, but Max waved him away. Tess was his problem.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Look, you know I'm going to find out. Wouldn't you rather just tell me?"

Tess spun back on her heel. "What? And turn up the chance to be kissed by the great Max Evans?" She glared at Liz. "That's right, Lizzie. Max sees things when he kisses me, too. Max and I had a connection back before you were even born..."

Taking Liz's hand and giving it a squeeze, Max turned to see her shaking her head at Tess, clearly non-plussed.

"Big revelation, Tess," she said calmly, but he could see the tension in her jaw and ached to smooth it away with a finger. There was a fire in Liz's eyes now and he loved her for it. "You should know when you've been beaten."

"Hey, Charles and Lady Di!" Kyle said, jumping in, clearly done with navel-contemplation and phony Buddhist meditations. "I thought the war was back on whatever planet it was you crawled out from under!" He slung an arm around Tess's shoulders protectively. "She told you what you wanted to know. Who cares why she didn't tell you before?!"

Max bit his tongue, then changed his mind and said it anyway.

"How can I trust her when she picks and chooses what she thinks I need to know?" he spat out. "And why wouldn't she tell me about this? We all have our powers – this is just one more." Anger rising, he stepped closer to her, close enough to see the cracks starting to form in her defiant stance. Guiltless, he charged on. "We've fought and almost lost, Tess! In Copper Summit! Here in school! We almost died! If I'd known I could do even a quarter of what Clark can do, none of that would have had to happen! If I was given this ... this gift to help us all, why-why wouldn't you tell me about it?!" Giving up the pretense entirely, Tess had buried her head in Kyle's arms, sobbing softly. "I ... I just don't get it, Tess. If we're in this together, how couldn't keeping silent, in the end, hurt you as much as me?"

But then, that was it, wasn't it? She wanted to hurt him. Because he didn't love her.

"Is that was this is all about? Getting back at me?"

Tess looked up from Kyle's arms at this last, moving away from him as if to distance herself. "Not everything is about you, King Max," she said, blue eyes flashing as her tears dried. "Maybe this was about me. Just me." She was chewing her lip again when she turned back to the cliff's edge and Max knew whatever it was she was going to say, she did not want to say it.

"Are you gonna explain that?" Michael growled, suddenly finding his voice.

Tess was shaking her head when she faced them again and Max would be damned if she weren't standing there laughing...

"You think things are so different this time around?" she asked, eyes narrowed, glued to Max's. "You think you're so righteous because you've chosen your own destiny here on Earth?" She regarded him with what looked like pity. "History repeats, babe. Always has. Always will." She spun around, waving her arms before her, gesturing to the land beneath them, the sky above, their bodies themselves. "Different stage, different costumes, same old show..."

He didn't like what she seemed to be saying. He didn't like it at all.

Neither, would it seem, did Kyle. He was staring at her wide-eyed, possibly trying to reconcile this Tess with the one that lived in his house and cooked for him and his father...

But Tess was on a tear now, clearly bent on getting it all out now that she'd started, regardless of the shock on Kyle's face. Or anyone else's.

"That whole story your mother spun ... about Isabel and Michael... about you and me? That's what she wanted you to believe. That's what they wanted everyone to believe, Max. The beautiful, harmonious Royal Family. Shit, I wanted to believe it." Tess bit her lip. "And I thought that if I let you believe it, too, it ... it could happen. Back on Antar, they thought that was the reason we were defeated – because the Royal House wasn't strong enough, wasn't united." She laughed grimly and cast a glance to the couples surrounding her. "But we are who we are, Max. As much as our families pushed us together, for the good of our people, we couldn't feel what they wanted us to feel." She broke off, spoke more quietly. "Or _you _couldn't, anyway..."

Max couldn't believe what she was saying. He'd only just begun to fully accept the new "reality" they'd been given last spring and here she was, switching histories on him?

"So you see, nothing has changed, Max. I was nothing to you then. I'm nothing to you now."

"Tess," Max said, softly, letting two-lifetimes of guilt wash over him. "I'm sorry-"

Max heard laughter to his left and saw Isabel folding her arms across her chest.

"Someone promised you a rose garden and you didn't get it," she said, eyes narrowed and pity in her tone. "That's what this is all about? You feeling left out-again?"

"This," Tess spat. "This is about control. When I found you, you three knew nothing about who you were. You could barely use your powers-"

"Wait," Lois broke in. "You four have powers, too?"

"Some, yes," Isabel said, nodding, taking a moment to switch gears, but very likely thankful to get to move her focus from Tess for a moment. "I can go into people's dreams and ... and see what they're thinking. I can also communicate with them that way. Michael," she said, gesturing in his direction. "Has the ability to concentrate his energy and use it like a weapon. Tess..." Isabel broke off to glance angrily in Tess's direction. "Tess can make people see and hear things that aren't really there... . And Max," she said proudly. "Can heal-"

"Max can heal?" Clark asked, breaking his long silence. Max noticed a hint of awe in the man's voice and was pleased that his ... his brother was impressed.

Liz stirred at his side. "Last year, I was ... I was shot at the Crashdown and if it weren't for Max, I would have died..." She found his hand again, held it tightly.

"Oh, boo-hoo!" Tess cried, drawing everyone's attention back where she clearly thought it belonged: to her. "Look, you want to know why I never told you about Jor-el, Max? The less you knew about what you could do, the more control I could have. And don't worry, if I'd ever felt we were seriously in trouble, I would have told you," she said, obviously responding to his look of utter shock.

But they had seriously been in trouble, had almost died twice now. Courtney had died. And none of it had had to happen.

Michael was seething. "Sooo... so as long as you held all the cards, blondie, you could dole out info whenever it suited you."

"I'm sorry, I know this isn't really my business," Lois said softly from behind them. "But why would Max need to be told he had these powers. Wouldn't he already know?" She looked to her husband, his cape flowing behind him in the wind. "No one had to tell Clark anything – he just found he could do these things. I mean, Max," she said, turning back to him. "Can you fly?"

Good question.

"Not as far as I know of," he said.

"That's because those genes are dormant," Tess chimed in, sullenly. "He would need to have contact with-"

"With me," Superman said suddenly.

"And as long as Max didn't know you existed, that would never happen..." Liz's voice was hoarse beside him, awed, it seemed, by the realization.

"And Tess, with her genocidal mind warp could be the end all and be all," Maria said, disgusted.

A hush fell over the group, or maybe it was the rushing of blood in his ears, but Max didn't hear Clark move until he was standing right beside him.

"I'm not sure how we do this, waking up those dormant genes of yours," Superman said gently, smiling. "But I can give you a taste of what you'll be able to do, once they are."

Max's heart skipped a beat, then started thumping wildly in his chest. What could he do?

He remembered the sensation, the first time he healed something, the exhilaration and the pain, the peace of it; watching the tiny furred creature as it scampered, reborn, up the nearest tree; the wonder he felt, knowing that he'd made it happen, at the same time knowing it was not something anyone else could do.

And now there was more?

He felt Liz lean into him, lending him her warmth and her support. Arm around her, Max gave the man a tentative smile.

"Well, I'm game if you are..."

_tbc…_


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 7/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Author's Note: This story was written before the series had ended, after Nasedo had died, after the _"end of the world", _but before any late season 2 developments; guess that makes it AU…

br 

Distant Connections – Pt 7

_ibshafer_

br 

They had cleared a small area and now stood around Superman and Max in a loose, vaguely disquieted circle. The sun was streaming through the thickening clouds and the wind had picked up, billowing her husband's red cape behind him. It was quite the scene.

"This first time we'll just go really easy, okay, Max?" she heard Superman say.

The boy nodded evenly and Superman took a step up from behind him, putting his hands lightly on Max's waist. She saw them both react to what Max had called their "connection," and she imagined the simultaneous picture show each was being treated to. Lois felt herself flush at the possibility that some of her more private moments with Clark could, right then, be chasing themselves around young Max Evans' head.

_Nonsense, Lois, _she scolded herself. _That's not the sort of pertinent information I'd use a psychic connection for. If I had one. . . _

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her cousin exchange frightened looks with her friend, Maria, and moving over a step, Lois slipped a reassuring arm around the girl's shoulder.

"He'll be fine," she said softly. "If he had to, Superman could move the Earth from its orbit. He can handle one teenage boy." Liz raised an eyebrow. "Yes, even one teenage alien boy." She was rewarded with smirks from both Maria and Liz.

"You ready, Max?" Superman asked, firming up his grip.

"Let her rip," he said lightly, but Lois could swear Max's abdominal muscles tightened.

Several years ago, before they were married, Clark had tried to explain to her just what the mechanics of flight were. The mechanics of _his _flight. Watching him with Max, she ran the steps through her head.

To initiate his move against the Earth's pull, he would lift up onto the balls of his feet. Of course, this was for a "gentle" lift-off. If the situation called for it, which it usually did, he'd prime his take-off by drawing his knees up towards his chest slightly and then pushing full-force against the ground, rocketing upwards. Which he would not do with a nervous first-timer on his hands and an apprehensive crowd watching. A slight push against the hard pack with his toes would raise them just a few inches off the ground. Which is exactly what he did.

They hovered there for a moment as Superman let Max get used to the sensation. A full head above even Michael, they looked as though they were the victims of some sudden growth spurt.

Eyes followed their movement, jaws dropped, and Kyle finally stopped smirking. "Holy Jeez," he said in an awed whisper.

Her husband leaned forward to speak, but before he could, Max drew air in sharply –clearly he'd been holding it – and from the expression on Superman's face in response, Max seemed to answer the question he was about to ask.

"I'm okay, Clark. Let's . . . let's go on."

"Okay, Max. Don't worry about a thing. I won't drop you."

Superman glanced to her briefly, giving her a knowing wink, and she tried to put all her love and pride for him into the smile she sent back. Then she could almost see him exerting greater pressure against the gravity beneath them and with a chorus of muted gasps from the group, they were airborne.

The pair circled above them slowly a few times, and even twenty feet away, Lois could see the slowly dawning exhilaration on Max's face; like a child's first solo ride on a two-wheeler. His expression took Lois' breath away and when she glanced over to her young cousin, she saw that exhilaration mirrored and magnified on her sweet face: Liz felt joy in Max's joy. These two really _were_ in love.

Max and Superman headed back toward the road (though they stayed low to avoid being seen), then picking up real speed, zoomed by them and over the edge of the cliff, disappearing from view.

An excited "YEAH!" floated up to them.

Max was _enjoying _himself. . .

Lois saw a broad smile break out on Michael's face, one he tried to hide for a moment before letting it fully take over. Glancing down, she saw the boy take Isabel's hand and give it a squeeze. And the supermodel? She was bouncing on her toes and grinning from ear to ear. Lois also noticed that the grungeboy, whose name was Alex, had finally found something other than Isabel that could command his full attention.

Tess was the only one not completely and happily enthralled, and even she seemed suitably awed by what they were seeing.

Within seconds, the pair were once again soaring above them. And then the unthinkable happened: _Superman let go. _

In an instant, awe was replaced by gasping shock as somehow Superman just stood by, watching Max plummet towards the earth.

_tbc…_


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Distant Connections

Chapter: 8/?

Author: ibshafer

Rating: PG  
Summary: Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

Disclaimer: I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
Category: Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

Author's Note: This story was written before the series had ended, after Nasedo had died, after the _"end of the world", _but before any late season 2 developments; guess that makes it AU…

Distant Connections – Pt 8

_ibshafer_

He thought he heard Liz's stricken voice cry his name as he sped past the cliff's edge, but he was struggling so hard to focus on exerting pressure against the fast approaching ground that he couldn't be sure.

It was coming up so quickly!

What was it that Clark had said? Something about thinking of his entire body as one single muscle pushing against the Earth's gravity like a foot against the sand? Though it was hard to imagine his body as anything other than a very large stomach trying to rocket itself into orbit through his mouth.

_Good visual. . ._

The imagery helped. He felt himself slowing, but the ground was still coming up way too fast for comfort. He willed the rest of his body to follow his unhappy stomach skyward, pushing against the nothing, imagining it was solid.

And suddenly it was. He could feel the ground beneath him though he was feet above it. And as he willed it, the distance widened. And he rose higher. And his stomach decided his body wasn't such a bad place to be after all. And he rose higher still.

And before he knew it, he was just below the cliff, where he could see that Michael and Isabel and Liz had thrown themselves onto their bellies, arms grasping the air, as if to will him back to safety. Their faces were ashen and then, instantly, wonderfully, flushed with relief.

"Hey," he said, as casually as he could manage with a wildly beating heart threatening to burst from his chest. "How's the view?"

"That was not friggin' funny, Max," Michael growled, fighting to keep a scathing look on his face and failing miserably. Dropping the pretense he was seconds later, grinning like a fool.

"How could you scare us like that, Max?!" Isabel cried, breathless. He saw the tears in her eyes, and the barely dissolved panic in Liz's and felt the overwhelming sting of guilt.

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't supposed to fall as far as I did. Guess I'm a slow learner. . ."

"Not at all," came Superman's commanding voice. By this time, he had come down from above and Max could see him out of the corner of his eye, inspecting Max's "stance" and the way he was invisibly supporting himself, no doubt making sure he would be able to hold the position. "You did amazingly well, Max. In seconds, you had slowed yourself down to half speed." Clark turned to his friends, but he seemed to be focused most on Liz. "I would never have let him. . ." He trailed off, as if unable to say the words "hit the ground." Max was grateful for that, feeling sure the language would have been almost as devastating to her as possibility of it.

"You look tired, Max," she said softly, her voice steady. "Had enough yet?"

He smiled back at her. "For now. . ."

With a glance to Superman for reassurance, he gathered his strength and pushed a little harder against the quarry floor far below, raising himself level with the cliff. For a moment he was unsure how to get his body to move forward, but the sweet look on Liz's face and the need to wrap her entirely up in himself had him nearly vaulting to the cliff's surface.

And then he was there and she was safe in his arms. He was safe, he meant, but then . . . was there a difference? The solid earth below his feet, the soft warmth nestled against him, the hands at his back congratulating him on his achievement, the blessed relief in his sister's eyes. . .

Max reeled, trying to shuffle this new reality in between the pages of the old; he could fly.

He was "The Boy Who Could Fly. . ."

What else could he now do? How much of Clark's ability did/would he possess? How would they be able to use these new powers to fight their enemies? Did this make him invincible? Did it mean he could relax now? Is this what being the "king" felt like? The questions tumbled through his head, one after the other, but as long as he could feel Liz holding him fast, as long as the sun beat warmly on his back, he was content to stand there forever.

It was Tess's voice that broke the reverie. Odd, but not surprising.

"So, you had your big moment," she said tightly.

Before he could answer, his brother . . . _his brother _stepped in. "If you mean, Max's transformation, the awakening of his dormant Kryptonian genes, yes, he did." Max could see that Clark was back in his mild-mannered-reporter garb, which, sadly, meant the "lesson" must be over. "We both felt it happen," he continued, an awed smile on his face, mirroring the one, Max was sure, currently covered his own. "And we knew the best way to be certain was to try it out, so to speak."

"Yeah, and scare the rest of us half to death," Isabel muttered, but Max could see she'd already gotten over it. The realization and the excitement of it had brought the color back to her cheeks.

"I wasn't scared," Liz said, looking up at him, her wide brown eyes serene.

"Sure, you weren't. That's why you were hugging the cliff with Isabel and me," Michael said, laughing.

Liz shot Michael a playful smirk, tightening her arms around Max's waist at the same time. "This isn't over by a long shot, Max Evans, and I could not believe it was going to end that way. Not after everything. . ."

"Gimme a break!" Tess hissed, but when Max looked up from Liz's sweet face, Michael had stared Tess back into silence. She stood sulking, arms crossed petulantly across her chest, eyeing the couple with disdain.

"Don't worry," he said very softly, for Liz's ears alone. "I'm thinking Tess is not going to be a problem anymore. . ."

_tbc…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Distant Connections

**Chapter: **9/9

**Author:** ibshafer

**Rating: **PG  
**Summary: **Lois Lane's Question for the Day: Who is this young man, Max Evans, and why does Clark feel such a connection to him?

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing and am merely borrowing these fine characters for fun  
**Category: **Crossover Roswell/Lois and Clark

**Author's Note: **This story was written before the series had ended, after Nasedo had died, after the "end of the world," but before any late season 2 developments; guess that makes it AU…

Distant Connections – Pt 9

_ibshafer_

"Well," thought Lois, giddily._ "So much for the boring alien story in Roswell, New Mexico..." _

Clark must have caught the sudden look of amused disbelief on her face because he glanced over from his deep convo with Max and winked at her across the terminal waiting area. She gave him a quick, slight smile, then turned her attention back to her pretty young cousin.

"...so,...um, I-I don't know if I should ask you this, Lois, but...but you're, like, the only person on Earth...that I know of, I mean, that I _can_ ask..." Liz's blush flew up a few notches and Lois bit her tongue to keep from saying anything that would make the girl even more uncomfortable. "It's just that I...I mean, we... well, we don't know exactly what could…you know, happen and all... And I guess I'm a little scared…" Obviously, Lois had been wrong in her earlier assumption; the one she'd made before she'd known Liz and Max..

It was clear that they had _not_ had been intimate yet. At least, not completely, anyway.

Lois was relieved, but also slightly surprised.

She'd seen the intense way Max and Liz had with each other and in them she'd felt the echoes of her own long-ago, first blush of passion for Clark; a deep and abiding love, colored by need and a tiny, ever-moving thread of _fear. _

Yes, very familiar, indeed...

Clark wasn't _like _other men. Even if he _had _been human, he wouldn't have been like other men. Clark was deeply beautiful, open, serene and always, always focused on her. He'd carried his heart around on his sleeve for so long before she'd finally acknowledged it, that alone proved the depth of his love for her. She had never doubted him for moment, nor had she ever had a second of indecision, in those tortuous months before they were finally wed, regarding her decision to marry him.

What she did have, though, was _fear_.

This was a man who could punch a hole in the Earth's surface and tunnel through to the other side if need be. What could he do to her? And at a time when control would be the very last thing on his mind...

She was almost embarrassed to remember her unease before their wedding night. She hadn't had the nerve or the heart to ask Clark about 'it', but somehow he'd sensed her concern, and in true Clark fashion, (she knew he wasn't psychic, but sometimes...it seemed otherwise), he'd broached the subject himself.

He'd said that while he hadn't the...personal experience himself to say for sure if he _could _hurt her, he made a solemn vow to see to her safety, and her pleasure, above all else. And the look of love, devotion, and belief on his face melted her concerns into so much nothingness. Seeing that sweet face, seeing the devotion and passion burning in his depthless eyes, she could do nothing _but _trust him.

Their wedding night had been beautiful beyond words, sublime in both heart and flesh, and much, much more than she could ever have imagined, which was saying a lot. She could imagine quite a bit... Lois never knew how Clark kept her safe while losing himself in their love, but somehow he did; every night (and some days) after. If it cost him anything, he had never and would never say.

That's what it was to love.

And while she'd only just met them, she knew in her heart that these two, similarly-fated young souls, had such a love as this, too.

There was so much she could tell Liz, perhaps more than the girl was ready to hear, but rather than embarrass her further, she chose instead to simply reassure her.

"Liz," Lois said with great warmth and not a little envy—she often longed for those first, giddily uncertain days of love. "I can only tell you to trust your feelings for Max, and trust his for you, and that everything will be all right."

Max heard what Clark was saying, but somehow had to be surer than sure. As difficult as it was to ask, this was just too important. He needed to have it spelled out.

"S-so then you're saying that I...I _couldn't _hurt her?"

The man shook his head. "Not as long as your remember how you feel about her, not as long as you put her first. _Always._" Max saw the blush he'd become accustomed to seeing on his brother's face deepen. "I'm not going to tell you I don't still get sacred...you know, that I'm going to lose control and...lose control. But when I think about Lois, I get this..." He paused here, suddenly looking far away, or perhaps deep within. "…I get this feeling of utter calm and it keeps me centered. She makes it...ah, I don't know if this is going to make any sense to you, Max, but Lois somehow makes it...she makes it okay to be who I am..."

Max felt the tears start to slide into place beneath his lids and wiped at them quickly. He wondered briefly if during one of their connected sessions, Clark had seen certain passages from Max's innermost self-analysis files. It was like listening to himself talk.

"It does make sense to me, Clark." Max fell silent as a pair of weary-looking travelers struggled by, wheeling suitcases and dragging a pair of unruly young children. He continued, his voice lower. "I've always been scared what people would think if...if they knew the truth about what I was. Back then, Isabel and I didn't remember anything from our home world, just like you, but we knew we were different. We always knew...what we were and that it was a thing that people feared. I didn't _feel_ like something you should be afraid of, but what if I was?"

_A monster. _

Max saw something flit across Clark's wide brown eyes. Concern? Compassion? Max couldn't tell. "W-what if it was in me, some_thing, _just waiting to burst out and prove them all right. What if I _was _bad?" He took a deep breath. "What if I _wasn't _and people didn't like me anyway?"

"Max," Clark said, softly. "I've felt all of this. I knew I could do good things, but what if no one cared? What if they just hated me?"

"Exactly." Max glanced across the terminal to where Liz sat with Lois. The two were huddled close together, talking. Liz's face was flushed a bright pink, the way she looked when she was struggling with something embarrassing and Max felt the color rise in his own cheeks, realizing they'd both been asking about the same thing. But then how could he be embarrassed when Liz was the reason his life worked? If it weren't for her, for who she was, he might still be behind that stupid tree, watching the world around him but never being a part of it. "Liz showed me I was wrong. She showed me that there were people who were willing to accept me. And...and love me. I owe her everything."

Clark nodded in agreement, his eyes on his wife. "I feel the same way, but even before there was Lois, there were my parents, the Kents."

As the man fell silent, Max knew he'd seen from his expression that Max didn't really want to talk about his parents. He'd made the decision not to tell them a long time ago, and though it had torn him up inside, and Isabel had never gotten over it, he had to believe it was better this way. For everyone.

Clark looked like he was considering his next words very carefully. ". . .Listen, Max. I can't imagine your family loving you any less knowing the truth. And I know it can't be because you don't trust them?"

"Of course not!"

"Well, then, why _not _tell them? Can't it only make your life easier to have them behind you, supporting you, _loving _you?"

Max shook his head. These were all arguments he'd had with himself over the years. He knew what amazing people his parents were, knew in his _heart_, they'd still love him and Isabel. But there was so much more to it.

"How do I know that who I am, who we are, won't put my parents in danger? I-I couldn't bear it if anything happened to them."

"Of course you don't want anything to happen to them," Clark said, gently. "But knowing the truth doesn't put them in any more danger than they're already in. Besides," Clark leaned in, his lips curved in a conspiratorial grin. "I think you're better prepared to protect them now, don't you?"

Max laughed softly, but he still had his fears. Maybe, just maybe, Clark was right, but he was still scared for them. He remembered his mother's anguish, that time she'd almost gotten it figured out, what he was, and how much he'd hated to lie to her. She was so desperate to understand what was happening, had known _something_ was happening, and it had clearly killed her that she couldn't be a part of it; she wanted to help him. She wanted to be there for him. She wanted to be his _mother. _

Was denying her the truth like denying her that right? Was it honestly fair to hold back this last bit of information from the people who had rescued he and Isabel from the desert that first night and in the years that followed, given them life and love and undying support?

He glanced up at his brother, caught Clark smiling, felt himself grin back.

"Reading my mind again?" Max said, eyes dancing.

"Something like that." Clark laughed. "Just say you'll think about it, OK?"

"I'll think about it. OK?"

Max was enjoying this; the warmth, the connection, the understanding. It was nice having an older brother. Very nice.

Clark checked his watch and Max glanced at his own. They only had a few minutes before the flight to Metropolis boarded. It was too soon. The couple days they'd had just hadn't been enough. But Lois and Clark had jobs and lives to get back to, momentous revelations or not...

"So..." Clark began, clearly mindful of the time and suddenly awkward for the leaving.

"Have...have any more questions?"

"When I can think straight again, I'm sure I'll have a million of them."

Clark's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You sure you've got my number, cell and home?"

Max nodded. "And your email address. And your number at the paper. And your parent's number in Smallville."

"I'm serious, Max. You should call them. They would just love you."

"Think your mom would make me a costume?" He grinned openly. "Without the tights, though. I don't do tights..."

"Oh, man—the _tights _make the outfit!"

"_Southwestern, Flight 247, to Metropolis, is now boarding at Gate 23."_

Now it was Max's turn to be awkward. He wasn't ready for Clark to leave. _He had a brother..._

They regarded each other for only a moment, before Clark threw his arms around Max and pulled him in. "Take care of yourself, Max. And take care of that girl of yours. Remember everything I told you, be _careful _where you pick to practice, and if you need anything before I come out again next month, don't hesitate to call me. You promise?"

Max had never felt so...so protected before. It was a new feeling. He liked it very much.

He nodded and assured his brother he'd send him email daily.

Clark pulled back and looked Max dead in the eye. "If you need to just talk, about this...or about anything—I'm here. You got that?"

Man, were his eyes wet again? Here he was, The Boy of Steel (Youth of Aluminum?), and he teared up at the drop of a hat. Still. Some things never change...

"Thanks...thanks, man," he said softly.

"I'll have the scientists at Star Labs put together a beacon like my mom and dad have, and bring it out with me in June."

Max smiled. "Cool. Kind of like the Bat Signal, huh? Michael will be thrilled..."

Clark just shook his head and laughed softly.

Just then, Liz slid an arm around his waist, giving him a knowing squeeze.

"Hey," she said, studying him intently.

"Hey," he said back, feeling his neck flush. He knew what she was thinking, could feel it through their connection. Clenching his jaw, he tried to keep the images from taking over his head, shivering once or twice under Liz's suddenly unabashed scrutiny.

Was that how life was sometimes? All the good stuff at once...

At the gate, they exchanged hugs again, he and Lois, Liz and Clark, then with a last, weighted look between them all, Clark and Lois disappeared up the ramp and onto the plane.

Arms around him completely now, Liz drew him close, breathing into his neck.

"How does it feel?" she asked.

He circled his arms around her waist and nestled his chin in her soft hair. "_Very _good," he said, knowing full well what she was really talking about.

"That's not what I meant, Max," she giggled and then pinched him, to which he jumped, feet almost leaving the floor. "Yikes! Gonna have to watch that stuff from now on, huh?"

Leaning in close, Max kissed her softly, but soundly, letting his lips do the talking, so to speak. Nuzzling at her neck, he whispered, "Only when we're in public, Liz. Only when we're in public..."

And with that said, they beat a hasty retreat for the door, all thoughts of distant connections replaced, for this moment anyway, by those much, much nearer...

_fini_


End file.
